


Rose & Thorn: Becky and Roman

by combatfaerie



Series: Rose & Thorn [1]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Sex, Sex Club, Sexual Content, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:55:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28256535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/combatfaerie/pseuds/combatfaerie
Summary: When Charlotte asks Becky to go with her as a safety net for her blind date, Becky assumes Rose & Thorn is an American knock-off of British pub culture. Then she discovers that it's actually a network of discreet sex clubs for the wealthy. After encountering someone she knows, will a familiar face be enough to encourage Becky to try out the club for herself?  (All ROSE & THORN stories will contain sexual content, often including kinks, multiple partners, etc. If that's not your thing, these aren't stories for you.)
Relationships: Becky Lynch | Rebecca Knox/Roman Reigns
Series: Rose & Thorn [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2069955
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	1. Author's Note

ROSE & THORN is a series in progress, a collection of stories linked by the concept of the Rose & Thorn club. The stories themselves are not connected in any other way and can be read in any order you like. Each story stands alone, unless specifically stated otherwise.

All ROSE & THORN stories will contain sexual content, often including kinks, multiple partners, etc. If that's not your thing, these aren't stories for you.


	2. Chapter 1

With a name like Rose and Thorn, Becky was expecting something along the lines of an old-fashioned pub and assumed that's why Charlotte had asked her to go along. Then Charlotte had told her to dress up, which was a bit odd—unless they had interviews to do, most of the wrestlers didn't pack a lot of fancy clothing when they went on the road—but not unheard of. Charlotte was fond of going to clubs and dancing and Becky had gotten used to being dragged along, so she usually packed a mini-dress out of habit now. She started truly getting suspicious when Charlotte wouldn't say where she had found out about the place, since Ye Olde English Pubs weren't exactly synonymous with Flair-style extravagance.

"Oh, you know. Friend of a friend." Charlotte kept her eyes on the road as she drove, taking a hand off the wheel every so often to adjust the plunging neckline of her dress. "I think you'll like it. There's one in L.A., you know. That was the first one I went to."

"First one?" Now Becky was truly confused. Charlotte normally delighted in telling Becky stories about her nights out, and this was the first Becky had heard of the place. The genuine old-fashioned pubs tended to have very distinct names so they didn't get confused with their competitors. If anyone was going to franchise the concept, she wasn't surprised that it was America, but she wondered how she hadn't heard of them before: she had enough Irish, English, and Scottish friends, both in the homelands and abroad, that surely one of them would have told her about a slice of home on American soil—no matter how cliche or inaccurate. "Okay, Char. Just tell me. What is this place? I thought it was a pub."

"It is—sort of." At the next red light, Charlotte turned to her and gave her a sheepish grin. "You don't have to go in the main part of the club if you don't want to, okay? And there's all sorts of safeguards and rules in place—"

" _Rules?_ " Becky shook her head, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the passenger window. She wasn't nearly as put together as Charlotte was—she had barely managed lipstick before her friend was pounding on her door, eager to leave the hotel—and irritation was making her jawline seem even sharper than usual. "Charlotte, what are you getting me into? If it's something that's going to jeopardize my title shot. . . ." After a slump, Becky was just starting to fight her way back up the women's roster and she didn't want to risk her momentum on one of Charlotte's whims.

"You won't! You won't, I promise." Charlotte patted Becky's knee as she pulled into a parking garage. "Hand me my purse?" When Becky did, Charlotte pulled what looked like a silver credit card out of her wallet, except it had no name or obvious company logo, just the outline of a rose and a string of numbers. Stopping at a parking booth, Charlotte showed the card to the attendant. "We're for Rose and Thorn," she said.

The attendant swiped her card, looked at his screen, and nodded. "Parking is through the gate, ma'am. Enjoy your evening."

"What gate?" Becky leaned forward just as Charlotte pulled away from the booth. "What kind of pub has a parking garage?"

"Just . . . trust me?" Charlotte shot her a pleading look as she pulled up to a motorized gate that retracted to let her in. Tucked away from the main parking garage was a smaller area about half full with cars, all high end and gleaming. "Like I said, you don't have to go into the main club if you don't want to. But I'm meeting someone new and I'd feel better having a friend nearby, you know?"

It was hard to argue with that. They had been looking out for each other for years, shadowing dates and providing check-in calls in case things weren't going well. "You keep mentioning the _main_ club," Becky noted. "How many parts are there?"

Taking a deep breath, Charlotte waited until she had parked and cut the engine to face Becky. "Before you say anything, let me finish, okay? Promise?" Becky rolled her eyes but nodded, so Charlotte continued. "Rose and Thorn is a sex club. Sort of. It's exclusive. Rich people, celebrities, professional athletes, actors: those sorts of people. Everyone has to sign a waiver and it's very discreet." She showed the silver card to Becky, back and front, so she could see that there was no identifying information. "If you're married, your spouse has to sign off on the waiver to prevent any scandals. No recording devices allowed past a certain point. They've thought of everything. It's really safe."

 _A sex club?_ At first, Becky was surprised. Charlotte was beautiful, talented, fun; she had no lack of interested guys asking her out. If anything, she had the opposite problem. But then part of Charlotte's explanation echoed in her head: _Everyone has to sign a waiver and it's very discreet._ There would always be guys who wanted to date Charlotte for who she was and then use it as a story to impress people; if there were waivers involved, people were usualy more inclined to keep secrets. "You're sure?" She wasn't sure what else to say; she was still too stunned.

Charlotte nodded. "Honestly, Becks, it's great. Everyone's on the same level; everyone's there for the same reason—well, same general reason—so there's no expectations of getting a call the next day or anything like that."

"So if that's the . . . main club," Becky asked slowly, "is there a lounge or something for people who aren't . . . participating?"

"Yeah. Spouses who came to sign the waivers or people's drivers or friends. Or if people arrived together and one person was done faster." With an awkward laugh, Charlotte added, "Honestly, I've met some really cool people in the lounge. You know that awesome make-up I had done for my last Instagram shoot? I met that artist in the lounge."

"Oh." Becky fidgeted with her purse. "I can keep my phone with me in the lounge, right?" If she was going to have to sit for hours while Charlotte amused herself, she at least wanted to be able to text.

"Yeah, absolutely." Then Charlotte leaned across the car console and hugged her. "I'm sorry to spring this on you, Becks. I should have told you back at the hotel, but I didn't want anyone to overhear. I've seen a few other wrestlers at different locations, but we're all really good about keeping it quiet, so I didn't want any of them to overhear and think I was spilling secrets, you know?"

That, naturally, made Becky curious about which members of the roster Charlotte had seen, but she didn't ask for details. "I guess I should be glad you warned me before I walked in, right?" She nudged her door open and stepped out, taking a deep breath as she shut it so Charlotte wouldn't hear. _She would have your back,_ Becky reminded herself as she followed Charlotte to a nondescript elevator bay. Instead of having buttons, there was only a card reader. "So how do you sign up if you can't even get in without a card?"

"Usually someone invites you." Blushing slightly, Charlotte ran her card through the reader. "That's not why I asked you to come, by the way. But if you wanted to sign up. . . ."

Becky glossed over that last part. "What if someone doesn't invite you? Some people must find out about this place on their own somehow. It can't just be one big circle."

Charlotte shrugged as one of the elevator doors opened and she ushered Becky inside, where she swiped her card again. "It sort of is. People talk—discreetly, of course—and recommend the club to . . . like-minded people."

Leaning back against the elevator wall, Becky tried to wrap her head around the concept. It made sense, in a way, and she figured Rose and Thorn was far from the only high-end sex club out there. Thinking about the logistics of it was only going to give her a headache. Charlotte had been the victim of a photo leak before, so Becky knew she was extra cautious now. "Do I get a visitor's badge or something?" she joked.

"Yes, actually. Well, a bracelet. They're colour-coded. Red means _No thanks, just visiting_ , basically: you're a driver or a friend or a spouse signing a waiver. Red bands are basically limited to the public areas. Yellow is like . . . _Curious_ , I guess. That's usually the new people or patrons who are there with or for a specific person; you can approach them, but with caution."

As a pattern, it was easy enough to follow. "And Green is _All systems go_?" Becky guessed.

"Not quite," Charlotte laughed. When the elevator stopped and chimed, she and Becky stepped out into what looked like a charming replica of an old English pub, from the dark uneven beams to the cavernous inglenook fireplace. There were obvious nods to modernity—higher ceilings, electricity, phone charging outlets—but all done in such a way to blend with the decor. There were only four people seated there—two together, the other two separately—and a bartender wiping down the bar. "Yes, it means you're here for fun, but it doesn't mean anything goes. Everything's consensual." With a shrug, she added, "I know some people think the negotiation aspect of it is a buzzkill, but I find it kind of sexy."

Across from the lounge was a reception area done in the same style, the long desk looking like an old bar. The woman behind the desk somehow both attractive and utterly bland; Becky didn't think she would be able to recognize her out on the street and that was probably the point. "Good evening, ladies. Welcome to the Rose and Thorn. Cards, please."

Charlotte handed her card to the woman. "This is my friend. She'll be waiting in the lounge." Then she turned to Becky. "Unless you want to sign up? There's no pressure. Some people sign up and never end up using their membership."

 _Membership._ The word also implied _fees_ when it came to a club, and Becky didn't particularly feel like paying a hefty one—and it would have to be hefty, judging from the subtle opulence of the place—for a service she might not ever use. But Charlotte was already flashing her credit card and offering to pay, so Becky nodded. "Sure. But I'm still taking the red bracelet."

The woman slid her a sleek clipboard with a few papers attached. "You can get started with that while I process the payment. If you have any questions, I'm happy to answer them."

Some of the questions seemed fairly standard—name, outstanding health issues, and so on—not other things were notable for their absence. There was no spot for an address or a phone number, only email with a note that it should be one that only the member could access for privacy reasons. _Obviously_ , Becky thought. You hardly wanted a notification about your sex club membership coming up for renewal to go to the family account. Some of the blanks were far more specific. Kinks, triggers, suggestions for new toys. Becky filled out the bare minimum, added her allergies for safety's sake, and started to read through the waiver. Blissfully, it wasn't in legalese, but that didn't make it any less long. Since she didn't have a spouse or committed partner, she didn't have to worry about anyone co-signing, and she skimmed over most of it before signing at the bottom.

"Excellent. Thank you. We'll scan your contract and send you a copy via email by the end of the business day tomorrow." Then the woman handed her a silver card identical to Charlotte, except for the identification number. "You can use that card at any of our sister locations once your form has been processed. Your email package will include instructions for what to do if you lose your card. Your wrist, please."

Becky held out her wrist and watched the woman fasten a red silicone band around it. "You mentioned sister locations. How many are there?" she asked as she tucked her card in her purse.

The woman smiled. "In the continental U.S., we have a location in every capital city and in most major centres. We also have locations in Canada, as well as across Europe, Asia—" Becky must have looked overwhelmed, because the clerk paused. "Would you like me to include an information package with the copy of your contract?"

"Uh, yes, please." Becky looked to Charlotte. "She can fill me in later."

"Of course." Then Charlotte led Becky around the check-in desk, and there the illusion of quaintness started to fall away. Either side of the corridor was filled with lockers half her height, all equipped with card readers, and at the end of the corridor were a series of doors. "I'm going to change in there. Most people change inside," she added, "but I don't want to lose my nerve; I need to get my power walk going before I meet up with him. You can't come, since you're a red band, so wait here, okay?"

Becky blinked in confusion. The only thing Charlotte had with her was her purse, and that was barely big enough to hold her cell phone. "Change into _what?_ " she asked, but Charlotte was already pushing in one of the doors.

Charlotte didn't so much change into anything as strip away almost everything. When she sauntered out of the changing room, she was wearing only her bra, panties, and high heels—and, of course, her yellow bracelet. After scanning her card, a locker door popped open and she stowed her purse and dress inside; she held her access card and a few condom packets in one hand. Realistically, her lingerie didn't show that much more than her ring attire, but it somehow seemed starker to Becky. "If you want drinks in the lounge, feel free. While you were filling out your form, I told them to put you on my tab."

"Tab?" Was there anything the cards _didn't_ do? Becky was curious—but not enough to test the theory. Facing away from the changing area, she leaned her shoulder against the locker Charlotte had just filled; the card reader screen had gone red to indicate it was taken, and judging from that, it seemed about half of the lockers were currently in use. "Do you top it up every so often or what? This is. . . ."

"Really organized for a sex club?" Charlotte laughed, leaning beside her and then yelping at the touch of cold metal against so much skin. "Like I told you, I know playing around is never completely safe, but this is as close as it gets. If you want to try," she added, "you can swap bracelet colours whenever you want. No one judges."

"No one judges what?" 

Becky froze, almost dropping her purse. She recognized that voice. She heard it backstage all the time, talking about how much his daughter loved her Lasskicker t-shirts. "Roman?" Since she had no idea what he would be wearing, she was almost afraid to look.

"Hey, Charlotte. Hey, Becks." His greetings were as easy and friendly as if they were at an event waiting to go out to the ring. "You two together or. . . ?"

Charlotte pushed off from the lockers and shook her head. "I'm meeting someone new. Level four. I wanted Becks here so I had some back-up." Becky thought about asking what the levels were, but thought better of it: she wasn't sure she wanted to have that conversation with Roman around.

Roman's gaze flicked to Becky's wrist. "You didn't have to get a bracelet to match your hair, Irish."

"Or her cheeks! Oh, Becks, I'm kidding. You know I love you. Wish me luck?" Charlotte said, crossing her fingers.

"Have fun," Becks replied, still flustered. Roman's bracelet, she had noted, was green, and like Charlotte, he wasn't showing much more than his ring attire did—shirtless, with tight pants that were more flattering than spandex—but the context made it look completely different. 

"That's the goal." Charlotte leaned in and kissed her cheek. "There's a fake courtyard if you want to walk around, but text me if you do so I don't worry. See you later!" As she headed down the corridor to the entrance to the main club, she smacked Becky's ass with her free hand.

Becky cursed many things in that moment—her cheeks for feeling like they were on fire, Roman's steady gaze for noticing, Charlotte's completely lack of subtlety. She tried to say something before he could comment, but Roman beat her to it. "Ah. So spanking's your thing? Well, being spanked, by the looks of it. . . ."

 _Charlotte, I hate you so much. . . ._ Charlotte was a very physically affectionate friend, so Becky shouldn't have been surprised the first time she smacked her ass, but after she asked her not to and explained why, Charlotte had stopped doing it around other people—mostly. "Um, so you're . . . done for the evening? Maybe you could hang out with me in the lounge—"

The corner of Roman's mouth lifted in a knowing smile. "Or you could come hang out with me in there," he replied, pointing at the plain door Charlotte had walked through.

The inferno in her cheeks was spreading and Becky twisted her purse strap in her hands. "I'm—I've got the red bracelet, so . . . and—and Galina. . . ."

"Galina knows I have a membership. She signed off it. Mandatory for anyone who's married or committed." Roman's grin grew. "Didn't you read your form?"

"Skimmed it." _What was to keep someone from lying?_ she wondered. Maybe there was more to the form than she noticed. 

Roman pitched his voice even lower, making her shiver. "No pressure, Becks. Technically I shouldn't even be asking." He tapped her red bracelet. "But you know me. You know I'd respect your boundaries. It's up to you. If you're not interested, just let me go clean up and I'll hang out with you in the lounge for a while."

Becky's gaze bounced between the main club entrance and Roman. He was right: she knew he wouldn't pressure her in any way, so if she did want to experiment, he was one of the safest possible people to do it with. He was respectful, he was her friend, he was gorgeous: he only had plusses in his favour. "I don't want things backstage to be weird," she murmured. Out of all the women on the roster, she seemed to have the best friendships with the guys and she didn't want to jeopardize that.

"As long as I don't pull a Charlotte and smack your ass in front of everyone," Roman replied, "they won't be. But it's up to you."

Grabbing her phone, Becky looked down at the blank screen as if it could tell her the answers, but all she saw was her own reflection, eyes wide and bright—and excited. How long had it been since anything had really made her heart race? "Okay," she blurted, firing off a quick text to Charlotte; a few seconds later, she could hear Charlotte's phone ping from within her locker. "But I don't want Charlotte to know."

Roman shook his head. "I won't tell her a thing. You can even set a time limit. I'm sure Charlotte's going to be longer than an hour, so let's say . . . forty minutes? Gives you time to clean up afterwards and get settled and we can be relaxing in the lounge when she's done. Go get your bracelet. I'll wait here for you."

Becky felt a bit silly returning to the desk so soon, but she imagined she wasn't the only one to have a change of heart. "Hi. Can I switch to a yellow, please?" 

The woman took her silver card and scanned it. "Of course. Keep your card with you. It gives you access to the doors, the condom machines, everything in the club area." Then she unfastened Becky's red bracelet and replaced it with a yellow one. "No phones, cameras, or other recording devices are allowed within the club, so please put any devices you have in a locker. Enjoy your evening."

"Thank you." Becky's fingers were shaking around her access card, but she managed to return to the lockers and swipe one open, stuffing her purse inside. Before she shut it, though, she looked at Roman. "I'm not wandering around in there in my underwear," she announced. 

Roman just laughed. "I'm fine with that." Then he gestured to the door. "Ladies first."

Becky had hoped he would enter first, but she kept her head high as she swiped the door open and pushed it inward. Any pretense of the quaint English countryside was long gone on this side of the door. Here, vibrant, jewel-toned hues and sharp angles ruled, making her think of music videos from the 1980s. "Charlotte said something about level four. What does that mean?"

"Different kinks, different asks. Some things require special . . . equipment, after all. This floor is for generic hookups, though, so we can stay here if you want." Then Roman paused. "Unless you just want to explore the club. We can do that too. That might put you more at ease. I doubt anyone will bother you with me around. . . ."

It was a good idea, Becky had to admit. It was certainly a safer idea. She could tell Charlotte that Roman gave her a tour and that it wasn't for her and she should see if she could get a refund on the membership fee—but Roman was right there and he was someone she already trusted and the sunset lighting made him look even more like a bronzed god than normal. Ideas were good. Action was better.

"No, here's good." If she looked closely, she could see card readers hidden discreetly amongst the artful angles, and she kept walking until she found one lit green. "That means it's available, right?"

"It does. If you see a yellow light, that means it's been used but not cleaned yet." Roman gestured to her card. Since her dress didn't have pockets, she had been holding it the entire time. "Do you want to do the honours?"

"Sure." Part of Becky worried that her card wouldn't be activated yet and some alarm would go off, but the door chirped and opened easily when she swiped the silver rectangle. The room would have fit right in at any high-end, minimalist hotel; the colours were more muted than in the corridor, but still far from neutral. There were no windows or boring wall art, but there was a luxurious bathroom and a mini-fridge. "Red and black," she murmured. "Of course."

"Cards go here," Roman said, pointing to a series of plastic holders affixed to the wall. "Means people are less likely to lose them in the heat of the moment." He slid his out of his pocket and dropped it in one of the holders. Then he pointed up to the clock built into the wall as she stowed her card. "Forty minutes still sound good?" he asked as he kicked off his shoes.

 _No._ Now forty minutes sounded both like an eternity and the blink of an eye. Lots of wrestlers had flings on the road—she'd had a few herself, when she was younger and less careful—but everything about Rose and Thorn still felt like a strange dream. "Yeah," she squeaked.

"Good." And then Roman was standing in front of her, eclipsing her, tilting her chin up with one hand. "So this is when we set some ground rules. Am I allowed to kiss you?"

 _Kiss?_ Given what was likely going on all over the building, it sounded like such a ridiculous question to ask, but she appreciated that he wasn't forcing anything. "Yes."

"Good." His hand gripped the back of her head, tugging on her hair just enough to make her moan before he leaned down to kiss her. When she tottered on her heels, he placed his hands on her hips to steady her. "Where am I allowed to touch you?"

 _No one who can kiss like that should be able to ask that,_ Becky thought, mind still hazy. Kissing Roman was like wrapping herself in sunlight. "Anywhere?"

"Even better." Roman promptly hiked her skirt up as high as it would go and then lifted her up easily. "Do you want to pick a safe word, or do you just want to use _stop_?" His fingers danced along the edges of her panties when she wrapped her legs around his waist.

 _Oh god, safe words._ The thought almost made Becky laugh. Her last boyfriend had thought doggy style was extreme, so she hadn't had to think about boundaries for a while. "No, I should be okay with _stop_."

"For tonight." Roman bent his head to nuzzle her neck, and the rasp of his beard made her shiver. "And that's because we only have forty minutes. But that's still enough time to for me to make you grateful you got that membership. . . ."

Becky shut her eyes as Roman pressed her down on the bed and started peeling her dress down. "Charlotte bought it for me," she murmured, sinking a tentative hand into Roman's hair. She had always admired his hair and she was torn between wanting to grab it and wanting to trace his tattoo, but then she remembered all the things he had asked her. "Sorry. Can I—"

Roman tugged her dress off and tossed it to the floor, along with her shoes. "You can touch me anywhere unless I say otherwise." Since he was kissing her clavicle, his voice rumbled through her chest, and his fingers were sliding under her panties. "You might owe Charlotte a thank-you card."

Becky shut her eyes and let herself bask in the touch of Roman's lips and fingers, the comfortable weight of his body on hers. No, forty minutes wasn't going to be nearly enough.


	3. Chapter 2

At the start of the day, Roman hadn't had many plans. Work out, do a few interviews, call Galina and the kids before the show, wrestle, and then go to Rose and Thorn to work off some steam. Running into Charlotte hadn't been a complete surprise—he had seen her at a few of the club's different locations, though they had never hooked up—but seeing Becky there definitely was. He had never made a hard and fast rule about getting involved with anyone from the wrestling world, and now he was glad he hadn't, because _now_ he had Becky down to her bra, stretched out on the bed in front of him, and he was wondering how he hadn't noticed her ass before.

"You sure, Becks?" he asked. She was new—to Rose and Thorn, at least—so he was taking things as slow as he could, given their self-imposed time limit, but it was difficult. Only the fact that he had used all his condoms made him keep his pants on. Running a hand up her back, he hesitated at her bra strap, but kept moving up to yank on her hair instead, making her moan as she pressed her hands flat against the headboard. There was an art to pulling hair and making it feel good, he knew, and judging from how Becky was whimpering, she hadn't been with anyone who did it particularly well before.

"Yes." Her voice was muffled, so Roman tugged on her hair again, making her gasp. "Yes, please."

"You're sure you don't want a safe word?" Roman would have happily gone ahead, but he knew it was safer to double check. A lot of people could think something sounded good in the heat of the moment, only to end up getting easily overwhelmed after.

" _Please._ " When Roman curled his hands around her hips, Becky moved with him easily, eagerly. "Please, Roman. . . ."

Roman pressed his chest to her back and his mouth to her ear as he ran a hand over her hip and between her legs. She made a high, tremulous sound as his fingers slid over her, like a singer practising the scale, and she ground her ass back against him. "Next time," he murmured against her neck, chuckling as she whimpered when he moved his hand, "we'll definitely need more time."

Just like there was an art to pulling hair, so too were there nuances to spanking. Angles, placement, speed: all the factors had a part to play. For someone less experienced in the kink like Becky, he'd found it was best to make the first one a surprise so the recipient couldn't psych themselves out, and the theory didn't fail him this time either. Becky let out a sharp squeal, toes curling as her body tried to translate the mixture of pleasure and pain as one sensation. "Oh _fuck_."

Roman chuckled. She was incredibly wet now, legs shaking and threatening to collapse. "More?"

"Holy fuck, yes."

He was happy to oblige, even if it was making him painfully hard in the process. At some point Becky had started swearing in Irish, which just turned him on more, wrapping one hand in her hair while the other turned her ass a brilliant, biting red. After one last particularly loud smack, Roman eased back. "That's enough for you today. You're going to have a hard time sitting as it is. You'll have to come up with something to tell Charlotte."

Panting, Becky flopped face-first on the bed, taking a moment before she flipped over. Her eyes looked like a murky swamp, and sweat shimmered along her neck, shoulders, and the valley between her breasts. Looking at his crotch, she replied, "I should do something about that first."

Roman shook his head slightly. His entire body was buzzing, but he knew Becky needed to clean up more than he did. "You don't have to—"

"I want to." Becky reached for him but then stopped herself. "Unless you don't—"

"No, no, no. I do. I definitely do. I'm just saying you don't need to feel . . . obligated," Roman replied, with just a hint of hesitation. Normally in Rose and Thorn, he wore confidence like jewellery, bright and bold, but something about the haze in Becky's eyes made it all more real. "Plus I don't think you can move very far."

Becky stretched out luxuriously, arching her back. "Probably not. But you can come up here. . . ."

"I've got a better idea." Roman grinned when he tugged on Becky's ankles, tugging her down the bed. When she saw the damp spot on the covers and started to blush—or blush all over again, rather—he kissed her softly. "Don't worry about it. They're used to all sorts of interesting stains. The room will be cleaned after we leave." Then he stretched out on the bed, running his fingers over the damp spot. _Definitely need condoms next time,_ he thought. If he could make her shriek like that with just his hands, he wanted to know what a proper fucking would do. "Come here." Her body was still pliant as he pulled her up until she was by his shoulders. "Come on," he coaxed, wrapping a hand around her thigh, "or is 69-ing not your thing?"

Becky ran a hand down his chest, stopping at his waist to undo his pants. "I'm fine with it. Just . . . most guys seem to like . . . you know. Watching."

Roman smiled, resting a hand high on her thigh. "Next time," he promised, "when we have more time, I will happily watch you suck my cock. Time's not on our side right now."

As her fingers slid into his pants, Becky's gaze dropped too. "Charlotte might take more than an hour," she said.

When her fingertips grazed his balls, Roman hissed out a long breath. Even the friction of his pants rubbing against him was too much. "She could be done right now and wondering where you are. Maybe she's going to the courtyard as we speak. . . ."

"You just want to grab my ass again," Becky teased. But she slithered into position all the same, pushing his pants down and starting to lick him before she moved her hips over him.

She wasn't entirely wrong. He liked digging his fingers into the already tender skin, making her moan around his cock. The weight of her pressing down on him in a long, hot line was tantalizing, though it made him wish he'd taken her bra off. Becky must have been thinking the same, because she pulled back enough to lick his balls as she unfastened her bra and peeled it off, dropping it beside them on the bed. "That's better," Roman murmured when he felt her breasts brush against him as Becky took his cock into her mouth again.

She was so wet that Roman assumed she would climax in seconds, but he was the one who came first, taking Becky by surprise. When she eased him out of her mouth, she was panting against his thigh, and Roman used her pause as a chance to wrestle her over onto her back. "Hey!" she protested with a breathy laugh, grabbing Roman's head with both hands when he positioned himself between her legs. 

Roman pulled back just enough to kiss her thigh. "What? You want to watch?"

"Maybe." Any hesitance she had shown at the start of the night was long gone, and Roman was half tempted to ask her to come to his hotel room. This was something he had never considered starting before, and now he didn't want it to end.

"Sit up on the edge of the bed then." Roman slid off the bed and knelt on the floor, pulling Becky to the edge of the mattress and spreading her legs wide again. The angle was a bit awkward—the bed was too low, he was too tall—but it was worth feeling Becky's nails dig into his scalp and watching her mouth open wider and wider with each gasp. Soon he had to grab her hips and hold them in place to keep her on the bed, and she climaxed with a short sharp scream. "God, I could do that all night." He rested his head against her thigh for a moment. "Go clean up. I'll get your clothes ready."

"Okay." Becky stumbled when she first stood, but she made her way into the bathroom and a moment later Roman heard the shower running. He peeled off his pants and set them on the bed, careful to avoid the damp patches—there were a few now, in varying sizes and degrees of wetness—as he gathered Becky's bra, panties, and dress. By the time she came out of the bathroom, he had her outfit set out neatly. "Good thing they have shower caps," Becky noted, "or else Charlotte would ask why my hair was wet."

The thought of Becky in the shower—even with the visual of a shower cap—was testing Roman's resolve, so he headed for the bathroom. "I can just say I went back in. I won't be long." He only needed to rinse off, after all, though when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he was reluctant to wash away the smudged lipstick on his balls. _Plenty of time for more_ , he told himself, stepping into the shower and rinsing off under the spray. As with all its amenities, Rose and Thorn didn't skimp: the water pressure and temperature were perfect, and he wished he could linger—and bring Becky in.

After he wrung the water out of his hair and returned to the main room, Roman saw that Becky was just pulling her dress back into place. When she noticed him watching her, she blushed a bit. "So . . . thanks, I guess?" She laughed awkwardly. "I'm not really sure how this goes. Any of the casual hookups I had before were with people I was never going to see again, not . . . you know, a friend on the same roster."

"It's all good, Becks." Roman hated getting dressed right out of the shower, but there wasn't much choice at the moment. After he fastened his pants, he looked for his shoes. "I'd invite you to my hotel room," he added, "but that technically goes against the Vegas rule."

Becky looked confused. "The Vegas rule? I know I signed the contract," she added, "but I haven't read over it all yet. Did I do something wrong?"

Roman shook his head. "No. You know what they say about Vegas: _What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas_? Well, Rose and Thorn operates on the same principle. If you see someone from the club in another context, you're not supposed to mention it. A courtesy, I guess."

"Makes sense." Becky perched gingerly on the edge of the bed to put her heels back on. "But we already knew each other outside of here, so. . . ." Her cheeks went bright pink again. "Not that I'm saying you have to—"

"I know what you meant." While Becky was collecting herself, Roman took a last walk around the room, making sure they hadn't forgotten anything. Once he was satisfied, he grabbed their cards from the wall and handed Becky's to her. "You ready?"

"No?" She said it with an abrupt bubble of a laugh, as if she had taken herself by surprise. "I mean, yeah, I'm dressed. I just . . . I don't want to go."

Roman wanted nothing more than to cross the room and push her back down on the bed, but he knew he shouldn't. "I don't either. So the offer stands, if you want. Tell Charlotte you want to talk to me about the club—get a different perspective."

"I'll . . . I'll see. I'll think about it." Becky clenched her fist around the card as if the pressure of the plastic would clear her thoughts. Then she winced as she stood. "Ouch. Definitely need a cover story for why I can't sit properly on the ride back to the hotel."

Roman offered his arm, making Becky laugh. "We'll figure out something in the lounge. Come on." As the door shut behind them, he waited until the yellow light came on so he could show Becky. "See? The cleaning staff usually wait about five minutes—the door will reopen for the original swiper within that time, just in case you forgot something—and then they'll go in and clean."

"They're very . . . organized. Any time I heard of sex clubs, it always sounded like . . . people hanging in harnesses from the roof and that sort of thing," Becky admitted. A tall, gorgeous woman wearing only thigh-high boots came out of a room and watched them with interest, sighing when she saw Becky's yellow bracelet. 

"They've got that too," Roman said with a chuckle. "Just on a different floor. It's not all about kinks. Sometimes it's just about anonymous sex that's as safe as you can make it, you know? That's why Galina doesn't mind. I don't do it often, and she knows my partners will be as discreet as I am. It's not like hooking up with a fan who sneaks a picture on their cell phone and leaks it to the dirt sheets. It's not foolproof, but nothing is."

"I guess not." Once they reached the door back to the locker area, Becky hesitated. "What if she's already out?" she whispered. "I think we took longer than an hour.. . . ."

Roman knew they hadn't, but they had cut it close. "Don't worry until you have to," he advised. "Get your stuff. I just want to change quick and I'll meet you in the lounge, okay?" When Becky didn't budge, he went to the end of the corridor and looked over towards the lounge. "You're clear. There's two women sitting there, but they're black, so . . . not Charlotte."

Becky's shoulders slumped in relief and she swiped open her locker shakily, collecting her things. "Okay. See you over there. I might just ask at the desk. . . ."

Before Roman could try to reassure her, Becky was scampering off, and he went to the end of the lockers again, trying to overhear. Becky's voice was nervous and rushed, but the clerk's was clear enough. "No, your friend hasn't come out yet, ma'am." A moment later, Roman saw Becky walk over to the bar and order a drink.

The t-shirt and sweatpants he had brought to wear after his night at the club were definitely more comfortable than the pants, but they didn't do much to change his mindset. As he walked over to the lounge and saw Becky slipping her shoes off, he was tempted to ask her to go right back in, maybe show her the delights of another floor. He ordered a drink, though, and sat beside her. "So are you going to toss your membership card in a drawer and let it lapse, or. . . ."

Becky twirled the stem of her glass, making her drink spin. "I don't know if I'd feel comfortable with a stranger anymore," she admitted. "But . . . some other scenarios might be okay."

Roman pulled out his phone and started showing her some pictures. "This is the sister club in Tokyo. Well, just the outside, obviously, but the interior is stunning. Berlin is amazing too." After showing her a few more photos, he tucked his phone away. "If you want to check for your contract," he added, "I can go over it with you."

"With my luck," Becky laughed, "if I tried to open that on my phone, I'd end up posting it to Instagram, and then _goodbye, secrecy_."

"Well, if you have questions, feel free to ask." He slung an arm around her shoulders and even though he had just seen her naked and had her mouth around his cock, it didn't feel much different than when they would sit backstage in Catering. 

After a few hesitant starts, Becky started asking questions—surprisingly detailed ones, to Roman's amazement—and she listened to every word, sometimes asking for clarification or more information. She was asking about the condom machines when she stopped suddenly, and Roman turned to see the clerk approaching. "Excuse me, ma'am? Are you Becky? You have a call at Reception."

Becky frowned a bit. "It has to be Charlotte," she said she stood. "No one else knows I'm here. I don't know who else I know that knows about this place."

Roman gave a small smirk. "Oh, you know a few. But I'm not telling names." Then he gestured to the desk. "You want company?" He rose and set their nearly empty glasses on the bar, waving off the bartender's offer of a second round and leaving a generous tip instead.

"Sure." Becky approached the desk and took a cordless phone, walking over closer to where Roman was standing. "Hello?"

"Becks?" The phone's volume wasn't absurdly high, but Roman could still make out Charlotte's voice, loud and giddy. "How're you doing?"

Becky pressed her free hand to her mouth to stifle her laugh. "I'm good. Took a walk in the courtyard and then went to the lounge. Are you . . . having fun?"

"Yeah. Tons." There was a groan in the background so loud even Roman heard it. "Like, _a lot_ , Becks. If you want to leave, I'll come back down, but—"

"Don't rush on my account," Becky said quickly. "Roman's here with me. We were having some drinks." Meeting his gaze, she added, "I don't think he'll mind driving me back to the hotel."

Charlotte gave a huge sigh of relief. "Oh, Becks, are you sure? Because I know I promised you I wouldn't take forever, but the things this guy can do with his mouth. . . ."

"Are things you can tell me about tomorrow when we're on the road," Becky finished quickly. "Breakfast at nine, like usual?"

"I'll be there. Thanks, Becks. You're the best. There's a sister location in the next city we're in, so if you want to switch—you go in, and I'll be back-up—I'll totally do that for you," Charlotte offered. Then she gasped sharply. "Hold on! I'm almost done."

"Go have fun, Char," Becky replied. "Roman and I will see you tomorrow."

"Love you!" After another sharp gasp, Charlotte disconnected.

"I didn't think phones were allowed?" Becky looked up at Roman curiously as she returned the phone to the desk. 

"Each room has a communication screen. Safety precaution in case of emergency, abuse, all that. A lot of people will phone in updates to their drivers, letting them know how long they'll be." When Becky started to hold out her wrist, Roman shook his head. "Let's go to the courtyard."

Becky tilted her head in confusion. "Why?"

"Cover story, remember?" He guided her away from the front desk, down a hallway similar to the locker area, except it ended at a glass door. "I doubt Charlotte will ask, but just in case. You did mention it. Besides, it's nice." Swiping open the door, Roman motioned her inside. "It's half garden, half cathedral, I guess."

The courtyard space wasn't huge—most people who were waiting weren't there for longer than an hour, having made arrangements with whomever they were waiting for—but the plants were lush and there were benches scattered around the area. Aside from the skylights that showed the lights of looming skyscrapers, it would have been easy to forget you were in a city. "It's a nice touch. I guess there can probably be a lot of assistants and limo drivers waiting at times. . . ."

"Sometimes I've seen the lounge busier than the club," Roman replied with a laugh. After they did a quick walk around the courtyard, they headed back towards the entrance. "You have everything?"

Becky nodded, then gestured to her bracelet. "So we just need to turn these in."

"Yeah." By the time they returned to the front desk, there was a different—but almost indistinguishable—clerk working, and she collected their bracelets without incident. After confirming that neither Becky nor Roman had problems to report, she wished them a good evening and handed them each a discreet black envelope.

"What's this?" Becky asked, tucking the envelope in her purse. 

"A discreet list of _help_ , should the patrons need it. Emergency birth control in case you forgot to take precautions, testing for diseases, a list of doctors in the vicinity known for their discretion, that sort of thing." Roman handed his envelope to Becky so he could get his keys. "Handy, but don't forget to destroy it if you don't want to leave a paper trail."

Nodding, Becky tucked his envelope alongside hers. Once they were off the elevator, she paused for a moment before following him. "I never bothered to see if I recognized any of the cars here," she admitted. "But in fairness, Charlotte didn't actually tell me where she was going until we got here."

The thought of having a sex club sprung on an unsuspecting person made Roman laugh. "Where did you think you were going?" 

Becky just shrugged. "I don't know! A random club or whatever. Charlotte likes music and dancing, so I figured she just wanted to let off some steam, you know?"

"Fair enough." Roman stopped by a large SUV. "It's a rental," he added, "so you wouldn't have recognized it anyway." Then he grinned. "Need a hand up?"

Becky eyed the side step suspiciously. "I think I can manage. How soft are the seats?"

Roman gave a hearty chuckle. "I guess we'll find out." Even though Becky said she didn't need any help, he still held the door open for her and watched as she hoisted herself inside, feeling a wicked sense of pride when she flinched as she sat. "You okay?"

After fidgeting a bit, Becky slumped in the seat as much as she could. "At least I don't have to make up a story for you."

"No, but you'll need to tell Charlotte something tomorrow at breakfast." After he got in the driver's seat and buckled in, Roman shot her a rueful look. "How bad is it? Honestly?"

Becky's expression softened somewhat. "You didn't go overboard, if that's what you're asking. I could have told you to stop. I know that." After the slightest hesitation, she lowered her voice and added, "I liked it."

"I'm glad." Roman nodded to the parking booth attendant as they left and pulled out on the road. "Do you want to stop for coffee or anything?"

Becky whimpered a bit as she fidgeted. "Only if it's through the drive-thru. I don't think I could handle sitting in a cafe chair right now."

Roman laughed. "I can run in and get you something. Let me find a place." At a red light, he looked up late-night cafes on the built-in GPS and showed Becky the results. "See any you like?"

She pointed at one midway down the list. "That shouldn't be too far out of the way, right?"

"Nope." Roman reprogrammed the GPS and started following the new route.

"Good." Becky squirmed a bit more, chewing on her bottom lip. "Because someone invited me to his room and I'm hoping the offer still stands, so I don't want to take too long. He might change his mind."

Roman felt a slow grin pull at his cheeks. "Oh, I don't think he will. Not if he knows what's good for him, anyway."

"I don't know." Becky's gaze slid over to him, equal parts seductive and unsure. "He seemed worried about something called the Vegas rule. . . ."

"We're not in Vegas," he replied, fingers tightening around the steering wheel in anticipation. There were no guarantees they would do anything but talk, but even the right kind of talk could be a turn-on. "And I don't know about you, but I don't really think I need a coffee. I'm sure whatever the hotel has will be fine. . . ."

Moment by moment, the doubt in Becky's gaze drained away, leaving only desire. "I'm sure they have coffee. Probably not a condom machine, though."

Roman shrugged, gaze dropping to her thighs. The hem of her skirt was definitely up higher than it had been when she got in the SUV. "Not a problem. I've got a box in my luggage. If it comes to that. You know we don't have to—"

"I know." Becky's smile told him all he needed to know. "I might want a proper shower first, and then I should probably make sure my ass isn't purple yet. . . ."

"I can help with both of those," Roman replied, "in whatever order you like."


	4. Chapter 3

Becky had never really bought into the concept of the 'walk of shame' before, but she was definitely feeling bashful when she returned to the hotel with Roman. Everyone on the roster knew she and Charlotte travelled together, after all, so they would probably wonder where Charlotte was. But there was more to it that that. Even though she'd had the quick shower at the club and gotten dressed and had been sitting in Roman's rental SUV, she still felt like she hadn't really cooled down. Was she walking strangely? She didn't think so, but it was hard to tell; Roman certainly wasn't giving anything away with his small, enigmatic smile as they strolled into the lobby. Her ass was definitely still stinging, though, and she worried that some of the slaps may have gone a bit lower. Bruises on her ass would be hidden by her gear, but her ring shorts showed most of her thighs.

"You look fine," Roman murmured, leaning in close. "You look perfect. Stop worrying."

"Sorry." At the elevator bay, Becky kept jabbing the call button even though she knew it wouldn't speed up the process at all. "I'm just not used to . . . this."

"Just remember: there's no pressure." When the elevator doors finally opened, Roman motioned her in first. "We can just talk. We can go our separate ways if you want."

Becky's gaze flicked up to the elevator camera. She was never sure how much audio they could pick up, so she always tried to be discreet when she was in an elevator. Roman was standing beside her, though, leaning back and sliding a hand down to squeeze her ass, conveniently hidden from the lens. "That's not what I want."

"Good." The bass in Roman's voice reminded her of the deep purr of the large cats—lions, tigers jaguars—and Becky quickly looked at the floor so the camera, no matter how grainy, couldn't pick up her expression. "That's not what I want either." 

They didn't say anything more until they got off on their floor; most of the wrestlers tended to book together, for both convenience and safety. Quite of a few of the female wrestlers had been harassed by obsessive fans in the hotels, so knowing they had a lot of allies on the same floor was reassuring. "I know it's cliche," Becky began, still keeping her voice low, "but—"

"Your room or mine?" Roman grinned. "I'm solo. Are you sharing with Charlotte?"

Becky shook her head. "No. That doesn't stop her from popping over, but judging from her call, I don't think she'll be back any time soon. Or if she is, she'll be so tired that she'll head straight to bed."

Roman paused at a branch in the hallway, not sure which way her room was. "When do you two normally have breakfast?"

"Around nine." Becky's hands tightened around her purse strap. They weren't doing anything wrong, but she still felt too exposed out in the hallway. 

After a thoughtful nod, Roman gestured down the longer arm of the hallway. "Come to mine. The stuff is there, and we can always say JoJo wanted to talk to you so you joined in on my family call."

Becky was about to ask _What stuff?_ before she remembered his comment about condoms. "Right. But . . . um, clothes." She gestured down to her dress and promptly wished she hadn't, because Roman took it as an invitation to give her a long once-over. "Should I grab something from mine. . . .?"

"Don't worry about it. I can get you home before curfew," Roman teased with a wink. "You wouldn't be the first wrestler wearing the same clothes two days in a row, Becks. If you want, you can borrow one of my shirts and just say you fell asleep on my couch. But it's up to you."

If she went back to her room, it would be all too easy to stay there and spend the night alone, waiting from a text update from Charlotte or catching up on her family-only Instagram. If she let the heady energy of the night die out, she might never recapture it again, but she would always wonder. "Okay. Where's your ro—"

"Hey, Roman! Hey, Becks!" Becky felt a chill of panic when she heard Seth's voice down the hall. He was too far away to have overheard them, but she still felt like everything they had done at Rose and Thorn was written all across her face. "Coming or going?" he asked once he had caught up with them, giving Becky—or at least her dress—a second glance.

"Coming back. Becks was out with Charlotte and wanted to leave early, so she called me for a ride. I told her the price was a video call with JoJo," Roman added. 

Becky played along as best she could. "Better company than a cab driver, and it won't use up all my cash either."

"Cool." Then Seth pointed to the elevators. "Dean and I were going to go play pool if you wanted to join in. . . ."

Roman shook his head. "I should call my girl and then get some sleep. Got a long drive ahead tomorrow, remember?"

Seth slid another glance Becky's way when he nodded. "Sure thing. Maybe next time."

Becky was certain she didn't breathe again until Seth was on the elevator and the doors shut. "He knows, doesn't he?" she whispered frantically. "He kept looking at my dress. Is something on it?"

"No." Roman still spun her around quickly to verify. "You're fine. You're just over-analyzing. Come on." Taking Becky by the elbow, Roman steered her down the hall to his room. He hesitated before swiping his key card, though. "You're sure?"

Forcing herself not to look anywhere but at Roman, Becky nodded. Seth's interruption had spooked her a little, but it had been a bit of a turn-on too. She didn't want to get Roman in trouble by getting caught and being watched wasn't a particular kink of hers, but there was something thrilling about hiding in plain sight too. "I am."

"Good." Roman opened the door and ushered her in first, taken aback when Becky pushed him against the wall as soon as the lock clicked into place. Even in her heels, she had to go on tiptoe to kiss him, but Roman was happy to help, grabbing her ass and hoisting her up. "I remember you mentioning something about a shower. . . ."

"Later. No point in getting clean right before making a mess, right?" Becky felt her shoes fall off her feet as Roman carried her across the room. She figured he was heading for the bed, but he pressed her against a wall instead, hands sliding up her thighs. 

"Tell me what you want first." She felt the words—a plea, a command, a dare—rumble through his chest to hers.

Becky lost herself in the kiss for a while, appreciating how hard he dug his fingers into her thighs. Dirty talk had always felt a bit awkward to her, but it wasn't as if she had a problem being blunt in the bedroom. At least not usually. This was _Roman_ , one of her dearest friends in the locker room. Except now he had seen her naked and made her climax and knew at least one of her kinks. The dynamic of their friendship wasn't going to be the same after tonight no matter what they did now. "First," she echoed with a rough chuckle. "I want your mouth again."

Roman set her down in the armchair and tugged off his shirt as he knelt in front of her, grabbing her left leg and extending it. "I want to do this to you in the shower," he murmured against her thigh, pulling back just enough to slide her panties down her legs and shove her dress up as far as he could.

Becky had started to laugh—how many women would complain about that, after all?—but then he was licking her again, hands sliding under her ass and bringing her forward. She expected her orgasm to build quickly and she tried to brace for it, gripping the arms of the chair so she didn't pull too hard on Roman's hair. Now that they were in in the relative safety of his hotel room, though, he took his time, teasing her over and over and then stopping to peel some of her clothing away. By the time her dress and bra were off as well, she was practically begging him to finish. "Please, god, please. Please, please, please. . . ." Her hips felt like they were about to shatter like glass.

She managed to get one hand over her mouth before she came, stifling some of her scream, but Roman pulled it away. "Nope. Not tonight."

Becky nearly came again just watching him lick his lips as he helped her to her feet, and she spared a hazy thought for the armchair as they headed to the bed. The room was dim—he hadn't turned the lights on, but some of the curtains were open, casting everything in a blue glow—but she couldn't see any wet stain from where she had been, thankfully. "What do _you_ want first?" She traced the lines of his tattoo on his arm with her fingers, the chest shield with her tongue, and she smiled when he let out a long, low _fuck_.

"That depends," he growled, "on how far you want to go." Roman wrapped a hand in her hair and tugged until she was looking up at him, and the hunger in his eyes nearly made her melt.

"You have condoms, you said" Becky began, running a hand down his chest to his groin. Hearing his breath hitch made her feel almost giddy. "I should try to be back at my room before six, and I'll need some sleep too—"

Roman's hand tightened in her hair. "Take them off."

Becky thought about playing dumb, but she didn't want to waste a minute that they had. While Roman kissed her, she busied her hands at his waist, pushing his sweatpants down as far as she could. Once she got them down to his knees, she slid a leg between his, using her foot to ease them down to his ankles. His cock was wonderfully hard and she had to slide her hands around his waist so she didn't start jerking him off. "Condoms?" She hated to shatter the moment, but she couldn't risk getting pregnant and she was pretty sure the agreement he had made with his wife didn't include babies.

Roman blinked as if resurfacing from a deep dive. "Get on the bed," he rasped. "On your knees." Then he went to his bag and pulled out a slim, glossy box. After taking out a few foil squares, he set the box on the nightstand and handed her a square. "Put it on."

Careful not to tear the package too roughly, Becky pinched the condom, took it out, and rolled it up Roman's cock slowly, watching his face the whole time. When she tried to move back into position on the bed, though, waiting for the sweet sting of his hand against her ass, Roman's arm looped around her waist, pulling her up. "What?"

"Not yet." Spreading her legs further apart, Roman knelt on the bed behind her, wrapping his right hand loosely around her throat. "Is this okay?"

Her pulse hammered against his palm and her eyes fluttered shut. "Mmhmm." She was torn between leaning forward into his hand or pressing back against his chest, but Roman solved her quandary by closing the gap between them. His free arm felt reassuringly heavy around her hips; without it, she was sure she would dissolve completely.

Roman slid his cock back and forth between her legs, making them both gasp. "I want you to ride me," he whispered by her ear. "I don't care if it's tonight or at the club or when or where, but I want to watch you. . . . ." He paused for another moment before pushing inside her, holding her tight against his chest. 

"Any time." After that, the only sounds coming out of Becky's mouth were moans and gasps as Roman started to move inside her, each thrust harder than the last. Her ass and thighs were burning, but it was an exquisite agony as Roman brought her to the brink over and over. Sometimes he slid his hand between her legs; if she was squirming too much, he wrapped his fingers around her hip hard enough that there was already bruising.

Each of her orgasms left Becky weak-kneed and swooning, but feeling Roman's was just as amazing: the way his chest tightened and his fingers spasmed made her feel strangely proud. "Forget you sending Charlotte a thank-you card," he said as he eased out of her. "Maybe _I_ should."

Becky lost track of time, of condoms, of how many times she came as they played throughout the night. The bed, the wall, the shower; at one point they were so enthralled that they almost stumbled out onto the balcony, but Roman had just enough presence of mind to pull them both back inside. He always seemed to know just how rough he could get without hurting her, how far he could coax her without making her uncomfortable, which in turn let Becky's inhibitions fall further and further away. Off and on, they were lucky to manage a few hours of sleep before Roman's phone bleated out its six a.m. alert. "I don't want to go," Becky muttered, burying her face in his chest. Everything from her mouth down was sore in the most bewitching way, and she couldn't see how she could leave his room and act normal.

"So don't." Roman pulled her closer. "Text Charlotte and say you're too tired for breakfast."

"And when I come stumbling out of your suite?" Becky asked. "How's that going to look?"

"I'll run interference. Say that whatever you drank at Rose and Thorn didn't agree with you, and you were sleeping it off." When Becky wasn't convinced, Roman sighed. "Fine. I still get a round in the shower, though. I didn't forget."

Becky laughed. Having Roman's mouth on her was far from a hardship. "I didn't either."

It spiralled away from them, of course, him between her legs and then her returning the favour, then using the last condom as he fucked her so hard against the shower wall that the imprint of the tile was pressed into her arms, breasts, and belly. "I'm going to need more condoms before next week's RAW," Roman chuckled, peeling the condom off and tossing it in the trash. "If you're still interested, that is."

"Charlotte did say she would wait at the club for me," Becky replied. "I could take her up on that."

Roman's eyes sparkled wickedly as he pulled Becky out of the shower and helped her dry off. "And I could spank you with something harder than my hand. . . ."

"Don't tease me when you don't have any condoms left." Becky hated how her underwear and dress clung to her skin, but since she had nothing else to wear, she had little choice. After she slipped her heels back on—carrying them would definitely make people think Walk of Shame—she turned back to Roman. Since he only had a towel knotted at his waist, she was trying to keep her distance so she didn't get distracted again. "So . . . I don't know really know what to say in a situation like this. . . ."

Roman came over and kissed her, but gently, taking her breath away in a different way than the frenzy of the previous night. "Thank you for an incredible night. I hope we can do it again, and I'd like to play more with you at the club. But there's no pressure, okay?"

Becky wasn't worried about _pressure_ , not anymore; now she was more worried about wanting too much and eventually getting caught. "Okay. And thank you." Then she burst out laughing. "God, that sounds so . . . flat given the circumstances."

He simply smiled. "They're weird circumstances, Becks. Don't worry. We're still friends. This isn't going to be some wild footnote in my autobiography and I hope it won't show up in yours, but whenever you want a repeat, just let me know."

"Okay." Becky tilted her face up for one last kiss before opening the door slowly. Seeing that the coast was clear, she ducked out into the hallway and hurried to her room, grateful that she had made it all the way without being intercepted. Once she was in her room, she shed her clothes and crawled into the bed for a power nap after setting her alarm for eight.

The beeping started far too soon; it felt like she had just tumbled into sleep, into a luscious dream of Roman fucking her on some tropical beach at sunset. When she checked her phone, there was a text from Charlotte. _Can we push breakfast back until 9:30? I'm exhausted._ Since it was followed by a winking emoji, Becky guessed Charlotte had as lively a night as she did. The only difference was that Charlotte would get to gush about it while Becky couldn't. She sent back a quick text saying that was fine and then let herself have a minute to wake up more fully.

 _Next time,_ Becky thought as she lurched to her feet and took another shower, a quicker one this time since Roman wasn't joining her. It helped a bit with the soreness, but she still felt tender in quite a few precarious places. _Next time I can dream up some gorgeous footballer or something and at least share a bit._ She wouldn't want to say anything too specific just in case Charlotte would happen to say anything to Roman, but she missed being able to swap girl talk with Charlotte.

Thinking of Roman, though, wasn't a good way to keep her focus, so Becky concentrated on getting dressed and packing up her bags and tidying up her suite. Once she was ready to go, she texted Charlotte again. _Ready to go. I'll meet you downstairs._

"No you won't!" The words travelled through the door before Becky heard the knock, and when she opened the door, Charlotte was grinning on the other side. "Good morning, best sister _ever_."

Becky laughed and hugged her. " _Someone_ had good sex yesterday." It was a gamble, saying it so openly—it practically invited a rebuttal—but it was the type of thing she would say, at least to Charlotte; if she didn't, Charlotte would wonder what was wrong.

"Sure did!" Charlotte beamed. Then she gave Becky a closer look. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you did too."

"In my dream." Since it wasn't strictly untrue, Becky didn't feel too bad about the fib. "I'll have to check my email for that contract. I have to admit, your club is tempting."

Charlotte clapped happily as Becky grabbed her bags and they headed to the elevator. "Does that mean you'll go again? I remember what I promised," she swore, placing a hand over her heart. "I'll be . . . not the designated driver, but you know what I mean. Roman didn't mind bringing you back to the hotel?"

Becky tried to shake her head as casually as possible. Roman hadn't held her neck hard enough to leave lasting marks, but she could still feel his fingers there if she thought about it. _A new kink for the list?_ she wondered. She would have to wait until she could play with Roman at Rose and Thorn to see. "Nope." Remembering the cover story they had concocted just in case, she added, "I joined in on his family call because JoJo wanted to talk to me, and I ended up falling asleep in his room, so my sleep was kinda broken. I'll have to catch up tonight."

As Becky entered the elevator, Charlotte gave her ass a familiar light tap, laughing when Becky jumped. "I barely grazed you, Becks!"

"Sorry. I fell asleep at a weird angle on the couch," Becky said quickly. "I'm surprised I can turn my head." She rubbed the back of her neck for emphasis. "So . . . your night was good? You'd met that guy before, right?" She was legitimately interested in Charlotte's night, but it didn't hurt that it deflected attention from hers.

"Sort of. He was highly recommended by someone I know who has similar . . . interests," Charlotte hedged. "And the recommendation was very well deserved."

"That's good." When the elevator opened on the main floor, Becky stepped out first—and promptly stopped when she saw Roman and Seth chatting by the entrance to the dining hall. "Hey, guys."

Charlotte caught up and slung an arm around Becky's shoulders. "Hey. Thanks for bringing my girl home last night, Roman."

Roman's smile was bright and utterly normal. "No problem. She's a great passenger." Then he jerked a thumb at Seth. "Unlike this joke. Can't handle not being behind the wheel for more than ten minutes." Looking at Becky, he added, "You sleep okay?"

Was she supposed to have some coded reply? Becky had no clue. Then again, it wasn't like Roman didn't know her phone number. "Yeah. Thanks for the chat last night. It was fun." With the slightest of pauses, she added, "We should do that again sometime."

Roman dipped his head in a small nod. "Whenever you like. Just let me know." Then he motioned to the dining area. "You two having breakfast here?"

Charlotte shook her head. "Nah. I owe my girl some gourmet coffee for putting up with me last night. See you guys tonight, though. Drive safe."

"You too." Seth looked like he wanted to say something more, but Roman steered him towards the dining hall instead.

"Come on, Becks." Charlotte nudged her with her shoulder. "You know your favourite place sells out of cinnamon buns before ten. We're already cutting it close."

Becky nodded and followed her, going through the motions: loading up the rental car's trunk, plugging locations into the GPS, planning their route for the day ahead. In her head, though, she was replaying everything she had said and what Roman had said and how Seth and Charlotte seemed to react to it. Had either of them suspected anything? It was hard to judge, since Charlotte knew about Rose and Thorn and Seth—at least to the best of Becky's knowledge—did not. "So, tell me about your night," Becky prompted after they had bought their coffees and take-away breakfasts. A proper sit-down breakfast would have been more comfortable, but there were few places where they would have wanted to discuss a sex club. At least in the car, they had relative privacy.

"Becks." The smile on Charlotte's face was radiant. "Thank you again for not being mad last night. Fuck, I needed that so much. It was so nice to just . . . let go, you know? I didn't have to worry about anyone sneaking pictures or a video, and it was safe. . . . ." A blush started to creep up her cheeks. "You don't want to know how much I spent on condoms last night, but it was so worth it. The three of us barely fit in the first bed, so—"

"Three?" Becky raised an eyebrow. "I mean, not judging, but I thought you were meeting someone. A person. Singular."

"I was. I did." Charlotte's grin never wavered. "But . . . oh, did Roman explain how the floors are sort of themed? Well, we were in the exhibitionist wing and this one guy came over and asked if he could watch, and we said yes, and then after a while, you know. . . ."

Charlotte continued for at least half an hour, eventually assigning random names to the guys involved so she could keep the details straight, and Becky did her best to follow, but she couldn't help thinking about her night with Roman. Perhaps it hadn't been as adventurous—not yet, anyway—but Charlotte's was definitely more fleeting, for better or worse. Roman was on the same roster; with some careful planning, he and Becky could arrange something even if there wasn't a Rose and Thorn club nearby. There were things to consider, of course—not least of which that Galina had signed off on anonymous random sex, not an ongoing thing with a coworker—but she hoped they could work something out.

"Becks?" Charlotte poked her thigh. "You listened to me ramble for half an hour. Your turn: tell me about that dream that had you looking so happy."

Becky gave a small shrug. "Oh, you know. Beach at sunset. Nothing fancy like your night." Maybe she would share details—rendered anonymous, of course—with Charlotte later, but for now, the night with Roman still felt surreal, and she wanted it all to herself.


End file.
